


Spilled Red Wine

by PanicFOB



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicFOB/pseuds/PanicFOB
Summary: Your first time meeting Bucky Barnes ends up with you spectacularly embarrassing yourself.





	Spilled Red Wine

The restaurant was packed tonight. You waited tables at an upscale place, where the patrons were quite rich and usually even more snobby. A busy night wasn’t typically stressful for you considering you had been working here for three years, but tonight there seemed to be far more famous guests dining than usual. You, just like any other normal person, couldn’t help getting a little star struck every once in a while.

Your best friend and fellow waitress, Annie, had just returned to the kitchen from serving Matt Damon and his wife some gazpacho. “They’re so unbelievably nice!” she fawned. “It’s still so unreal to me when celebrities are just as charming and respectful as you would hope for them to be.”

“Be lucky you’re not serving at Stark’s table tonight, then.”

“I didn’t realize he was reserved for tonight, and is he really that bad?”

“Depends who he’s with. If it’s business colleagues, he’s an ultimate douche, but if Pepper’s there, he usually reigns it in.”

“How many are reserved for his party tonight?”

You went over to the office connected to the kitchen and glanced across the reservation calendar. “Oh, wow. He had us put him down for a party of ten. I don’t think he’s ever come in with that many people.”

“Sounds like business colleagues, then?”

“He usually only brings three or four of those.”

Annie grabbed the next course for the Damons. “Hmm, strange,” she said before exiting the kitchen once more.

You popped out to the restaurant floor as well, checking up on all your tables that were sipping wine and contemplating desserts. Alicia Keys ordered some cheesecake for her two sons that she was dining with tonight. Just as you were collecting some old white guy’s debit card to pay for his food, a loud commotion came from the restaurant entrance. There stood Tony Stark, right on time for his reservation, and behind him stood the entire troop of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

You quickly looked away, took the man’s card, and headed back to the cash registers, trying to do it as quickly as possible so you could get to Tony’s table in a speedy manner. You always ended up serving him when he came here, which was about twice a month. Never once had he brought his Avengers teammates, though.

You returned the old man’s card and receipt and took a deep breath before marching toward the large table that seated the boisterous group. At the head of the table was, of course, Stark himself. To his right was Pepper, James Rhodes, The Vision, and Wanda Maximoff. On his left was Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, and Steve Rogers. At the completely opposite end of the table sat Bucky Barnes.

“Hello, Mr. Stark, we are so happy to have you and all your guests dining with us tonight. Can I get you started with some wine and some appetizers?”

“Well, look who it is, the cheery little waitress that they always send to my table, no matter where I’m seated. I’m beginning to think you’re the only one that’s not terrified of me.”

You forced out a nervous laugh. “Don’t be silly. I’m just good at what I do, and they want only the best for a regular patron.”

He rolled his eyes but wore an amused grin. “Right. Let’s have some of the crab stuffed mushrooms, and wine for everyone, of course.”

“Right away, sir.” You scuttled off back to the kitchen.

Annie was there waiting for you. “Oh my god, I was in the same room as Captain America. I can die happy now.”

“Annie, chill out. You’re talking so loud that the patrons can probably hear you.”

“Sorry, sorry, but have you seen that man? He’s so perfectly chiseled.”

You put the request in for the mushrooms with the chefs and then turned back to your friend. “The house is too packed tonight for fangirling. Come one, we’ve gotta get back out there.” You grabbed two bottles of the wine Stark had ordered, placing them in buckets of ice and heading back to the table.

Despite warning your friend against fangirling, you were absolutely screaming on the inside. You had always admired the Avengers and everything they had done for this planet. Black Widow had sort of been your role model for the longest time, and you had dressed up as her for Halloween more than one year in a row. You made your way around the table, pouring each of their glasses of wine. As you neared Bucky Barnes, you got increasingly nervous. You had the biggest crush on the longhaired, smoldering man. He seemed a stark contrast to the other noisy and outspoken members of the group, his thoughts clearly always a mystery to everyone but himself.

You reached your hand out for his glass, gripping it delicately and pouring the wine. You glanced at his face and the gentle smile he gave you made your fingers slip. Both your eyes and the steel-blue ones you had met widened in horror as the glass dropped and deep red liquid spilled all over the tablecloth and Bucky’s lap.

“Shit,” Bucky jumped up from his seat quickly, trying to escape the excess liquid that was dripping on him from the edge of the table.

The entire rest of the dinner party filled the air with their loud laughs. Even Captain America seemed quite amused at his best friend’s slight misfortune.

“I’m so so so sorry, Mr. Barnes.” Your cheeks were on fire.

He was glaring at his team members for their childish reaction to the slip-up. “Shut it, you punks. It’s not funny, and I’m not laughing.”

“It’s just a bit of fun, Barnes. No need to get your panties in a twist,” Sam Wilson teased the man.

“Yeah, and our poor waitress, Miss Y/N here, thinks your laughing at her for trying her best at her job and making a tiny mistake. So, knock it off.” He looked back at you, and you felt frozen because despite wearing a nametag, it still felt unbelievable that he had taken the time to notice your name. “It’s really no big deal. Accidents happen, doll. Do you mind pointing me to the restroom?”

You did just that, and after Bucky disappeared, you tried pouring the rest of the wine glasses without a repeated disaster. You called someone over to help clean the mess, and then you retreated to the kitchen in mortification.

Thankfully, the rest of the Avengers’ dinner went on without any further catastrophes. Every time you appeared at the table to check on them or deliver food, Bucky seemed to catch your eye and give you a reassuring smile. It only made you more self-conscious and nervous about your abilities to do your job correctly though. After Tony had paid the bill, and you had made sure they didn’t need anything else before their departure, you went back to the kitchen to wait for them to leave so you could clear the table.

“Hey, Y/N,” Annie said, coming in with a tray full of dirty dishes, “Bucky Barnes is still at your table. I think he needs something.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You rushed out there to see that the rest of the party had left and Bucky Barnes was, in fact, sitting there alone.

“Is there something else I can help you with, sir?” you questioned as you approached him.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, not too humiliated after what happened earlier. I promise you that my friends were laughing at me, not you. But I’m sorry about it anyway.”

You waved him off. “I’ve survived way worse as a waitress. I’ll be fine. And I really am sorry if I ruined your pants.”

“That’s the best part about wearing black all the time: it’s hard to stain.”

You giggled.

“What sorts of restaurants do you like to eat at?” he asked, and you were quite surprised.

“Mr. Barnes, are you suggesting I recommend some eatery other than the fine establishment in which I work?”

“Come on, I know you don’t eat here when you’re not working.”

“How? Cause I’m not rich?”

“Maybe, yeah,” he admitted with a smirk.

You stepped a bit closer to him and half-whispered, “I like diners with really greasy food and a functioning jukebox in the corner that plays all the worst songs.”

He grinned. “I’m a fan of those too. Wanna go with me sometime?”

Nearly all the air escaped from your lungs, and you let out a breathless “I’d love to.”

You jotted down your phone number on a napkin, and you could barely stop yourself from letting out a squeal of delight when he slipped it into his pocket, winked at you, and headed out the door.


End file.
